When Beauty Came Too Late
by GreyForest
Summary: What if Beauty's story was just 5 minutes to late? This story plays out in an alternate fairy tale where Belle didn't make it back in time to save the Beast and his Castle full of enchanted furniture, where a happy ending is far from guranteed and where the Beast she ends up with isn't the one she fell in Love wih.


She wasn't sure when exactly his body disappeared, she just slowly became aware that her head, instead of laying on the firm warmth of his chest was now against the wet, hard stone of the ground. And her hand, which had been so desperately grasping his clothing, now lay out stretched, still amongst the liquid sky reflected before her. She would be OK, she thought, as long as she didn't move. She would just lay here, still and silent forever, numbed by shock to the rain and cold. She was fine here in the dark, here where the torches and figures of riot in the castle behind were merely just reflections before her, vulnerable to distortion by the merest tap of her finger. She would just become one of the castles hundreds of statues, stone still until she too dissappeared into the ground below.

'Perhaps you better run... '

The voice sparked somewhere in the depths of her mind, but laid here amongst the shadows it felt too far away to make sense.

It was a futile attempt at self preservation, and it came far too late.

It was his boots she saw first, they strode into view, shattering her starlight.

'We need to go B'

She didn't look up when he spoke, movement felt impossible and even if it was she knew what she would have seen. Darkness, a dark shadow across his dark features, a sooty mass of man and monster.

He didn't wait for an answer, he just scooped her up with astounding ease and placed her, front of the saddle, on his large, grey stallion.

In a move equally as adept Gaston swung himself up behind her, his arms enveloping her to grip the reins. On his cue the loyal horse turned and began to make his way down the stone steps, away from the large black doors of the castle and away from the spot where Belle, and Beast, had laid.

The avenue to the gate was lined with alabaster figures and Belle fixed her gaze on her stony comrades as she passed, none of them had ever lived, as far as she was aware, and how she longed to join them.

Her mind, still misty and scattered from what had just happened, felt like it was barely clingy on to sanity. It wasn't until Gaston order his horse into a gallop as they crossed through the castle gates that reality, carried on a blast of cold air, finally hit. All of a sudden Belle was back in her body, feeling the weight of all her sodden layers of skirts and petticoats and lost. The ice on the air filled her lungs and hair and seemed to find every inch of bare skin left uncovered by her cloak. The coldness was breath-taking, as was the growing ache in her heart at the realisation that her loves were gone.

As they rode on Gastons strong legs straddled her securely and despite herself she felt her body begin to lay into him. Soothed by the security, comforted by his warmth and too exhausted to do anything other than submit. She felt well and truly defeated.

If he had noticed her subtle surrender then he made no move to acknowledge it. He remained silent and reserved as he expertly guided the horse through the dark maze of tree and paths.

The journey was painfully cold and ominously dark.

When the lights of their village appeared through the trees they were a very welcome sight.

Just as the forest ends, where the trees turn to town, there is a small path off to the left, and it was down this road that Gaston led them, much to Belles unsurprise.

At the end loomed the imposing, wooden shape of Gastons Tarven, a huge hunting lodge, shimmering with lanterns hung at all its many windows and doors. Usually at this time of night it would be bursting at the seams with practically every man (and the occasional woman) of the village. Paupers and Lords all combined here together to drown their sorrows and raise their spirits. Despite being on the edge of town the tavern was at the very heart of the community and often doubled up as a meeting house, court room or dance hall. It was here the village came to debate, fight and celebrate, all under the watchful eye of its Lord and Master, Gaston.

Tonight, however, it was near empty, the village instead choosing to descend on Beasts Castle in their masses, looting and pillaging and destroying. She wondered if they realised that the gold and china now filling their sacks had, just yesterday, held the souls of their long lost loved ones. It was a dark thought.

They approached the Tavern round the back. 'You need to walk' Gaston muttered to her gruffly, before dismounting himself and his bags full of spoils. Belle somehow many to clamber off, however the stiffness in her body as she attempted to walk made her wonder momentarily if her wish to become a statue was actually becoming a reality. Thankfully it was only a few painful steps before she reached Gaston and the door he held open. She peered inside, there was a large hall with a wide oak staircase leading from it. She knew these were Gaston private quarters and she knew at the top of them stairs were his Chambers. 'You know where to go' his voice cut in as if reading her mind. She stepped inside and slowly started up the wooden steps as Gaston closed the back door behind them, double checking it was locked.


End file.
